


Cupcake Wars

by poor_dumb_killian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4805339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After acclimating to the new small town, Emma Swan enters into a wager with Killian Jones. Who can sell the most at the school's bake sale?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupcake Wars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theladyofmisthaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyofmisthaven/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LADY! My gift to you is a fluffy (beware of cavities - this is seriously so sweet), daddy!Killian who is the master of cupcake baking. A big thanks to Amy (zengoalie), Mona (o-u-a-timer) and Lena (lenfaz) for helping with grammar and shaking my muse free when I was stuck. There will be a part two to this fic, eventually. It became a monster, and I just couldnt make it any longer for today! I have too many other b-day fics to write to give you an idea of when it will be up, I promise it will come around eventually. Enjoy!

Killian had a pretty standard morning thus far. He had awoken at dawn and ran three miles on his treadmill before showering for the day and preparing breakfast for his most important lady.

He was busying himself with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when he heard the telltale sound of little feet thundering down the stairs.

“Papa! Papa!” came the delighted squeals of his daughter, Sophia, before she barreled into his leg and nearly knocked him over in her haste.

“Woah, calm down, little love,” he said with a warm smile as he bent to scoop her up in his arms.

His little girl was starting second grade today. It seemed like just yesterday he was changing her diapers and helping her learn how to walk. Soon she would be too big for him to hoist into his arms.

He tried to keep the emotion from his voice as he continued, “And how is the Princess Sophia on this fine, September morning?”

“Papa I’m not a princess, I’m a pirate. Remember?” she chastised as she tried to wiggle her way out of his grasp.

He wasn't going to let go that easily, so he started peppering her with kisses. Her shrill laughter filled the air as she gasped for breath and flailed in his arms, trying desperately to escape.

“Oh, I don't know, love,” he smiled as he sat her at the breakfast bar and pushed the plate of cut fruit and berries towards her before walking to the fridge for the yogurt, “You will always be my little princess. How about we compromise?”

He took a sip of coffee and nearly choked as she raised her eyebrow at him in an uncanny replica of his own doubtful expression, “I don't know, Papa… I don't think I'm going to like this _compormise_.”

He chuckled at the confused scrunch of her eyebrows as she used the unfamiliar word, “It’s compromise, my darling Sophia. And they are not a bad thing. It means that each of us get something we want, while conceding to a point we disagree with.” She was still looking at him skeptically so he chuckled, “I propose to calling you my pirate princess. Would that work for you?”

She looked at him very thoughtfully, her little brows scrunched together in concentration, before finally answering, “I guess so, Papa.”

“I’m glad we can come to an accord, my princess pirate,” he smiled, “Now hurry and eat so we can get ready or you will be late.”

Twenty minutes later, she had found the perfect shoes to go with her new, blue shirt, but still wasn’t pleased with his plans for her hair, “No, Papa. I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t want pigtails.”

“Pigtails aren’t just for little girls, darling,” he tried to argue. He didn’t have the skills to do much else with hair and was dreading the day he would have to turn to youtube for help - he knew it was fast approaching. “If you don’t want pigtails, how would you prefer your hair?”

“I just want a headband, I want my hair down,” she pouted.

“We’ve discussed this, sweetling. When your hair is down it gets all knotted and then we have to work to untangle it,” he tucked a loose strand behind her ear, “You remember how much you hate it when I have to brush all those tangles out?”

“ _Fine_. You win Papa,” she sighed dramatically, “But no pigtails. I just want a pony tail.”

“Absolutely,” he knelt beside her with his hand held over his heart as he bowed slightly to her, “Your wish is my command, captain.”

Her shriek of laughter was like music to his ears.

* * *

They walked up to the school with only a few minutes to spare, leaving Killian with no choice but to see her off from the sidewalk and wave goodbye as his whole heart ran with her into the school grounds.

He had moved to Storybrooke after his wife, Milah, died in a car crash and he was left with a 6 month old to care for. It was a daunting task, and he was determined to give her the best chance he could. A small town seemed like a better fit and he was thankful for that decision. He could walk her to school and walk the rest of the way to work at the docks where he manned a small vessel for day trips and fishing enthusiasts. It kept him busy in the warm months, and left him more time at home with his little one come winter.

The day seemed to crawl by. He took a father and son out fishing; the father had booked it hoping for some bonding time with his son. Instead, Killian had to sit on a small boat and listen to the two men argue and bicker over every minute detail for five hours. He wanted to pull his hair out by the time they made it back to dock.

He had a skip in his step as he walked to the school to meet Sophia, she always knew how to brighten his day even without realizing it. He already missed her accompanying him on his day trips out to sea. He got spoiled over the summer with her constant presence.

He was one of the first parents to arrive at the school, so he sat at the bench outside and waited for the sound of the bell. He was scrolling through his phone, paying no mind to the gathering crowd around him.

He took caution to mostly avoid eye contact with the mothers who flocked around the school waiting for their kids. He had learned that lesson early on; mothers had a serious soft-spot for single dads, and they often tried to force food and other things upon him. He assumed they thought he was incapable of going it alone. It drove him mad, so he tried to avoid conversation.

The bell finally chimed in the distance, and he looked up expectantly at the door. He knew Sophia had a penchant for chatting, so it could be a wait. He just hoped she wouldn’t leave him waiting too long.

He heard her giggle long before her brown curls came bouncing into view. She was walking with a boy he hadn’t seen before, and they were chatting excitedly. That’s when a mass of blonde curls entered his peripheral for the first time.

He couldn’t believe he had managed to miss her in the crowd. She was tall, with long legs in skintight jeans and a red leather jacket. She was bloody beautiful as she walked with purpose up to Sophia and the mystery boy before ducking down to their level and speaking with the boy.

He decided that she must be his mother from the clear affection Killian could see even from this distance.

He finally stood to go extract his daughter and introduce himself to the mystery woman and her son. “Sophia, my love,” he said as he approached the group, “How was your first day back, sweetling?”

“Papa!” she squealed, having just seen him, as he snatched her up into his arms “I made a new friend today. This is Henry Swan and he likes boats. I told him you have a boat and he said we should be best friends. Do you think that’s a good reason to be best friends, papa?”

He had to chuckle at the rambling innocence of a seven year old. “Aye, that seems as good a reason as any, little love,” he said as he placed a kiss on her cheek and set her back down on the ground.

He bent down to boy’s level before putting his hand out in greeting, “You must be Henry, my daughter’s new _best friend_ ,” he added emphasis and nudged his daughter playfully with his elbow, “I’m Killian Jones, fellow boat enthusiast.”

Henry shook his hand with a very serious look on his face, “Can I have a ride on your boat?”

“Henry!” the beautiful blonde to his right finally broke her silence, “You can’t just go asking strangers for a ride on their boat.”

Henry looked utterly crestfallen at his mother’s words as he mumbled an apology. Killian stood and turned to the mystery woman with his brightest smile, “No need to apologize. It’s quite alright. I’m Killian Jones, by the way.”

She looked at him skeptically, her jade eyes taking in his features before landing on his outstretched hand. The longer she scrutinized, the more uneasy he felt. He was starting to think she would never complete the standard exchange of names when she finally grabbed his hand, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma,” he said as he kissed the back of her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He noticed a tinge of pink light up the apples of her cheeks before she ripped her hand free and reached for her son, “Come on, Henry,” she said, “I’ll be late getting back if we don’t go now.”

The kids said a quick goodbye, and she was turned and walking away before Killian even had a chance to say another word.

* * *

Emma had never lived in a small town; she was used to the hustle and bustle of big city life. But after a lifetime of never living in one place longer than a year, she was determined to do better for her son.

So, she decided to try a small town, since nowhere else she had tried ever felt quite like home. After a quick craigslist search for jobs and research on the area she found herself in a tiny, little town in Maine called Storybrooke.

The name was utterly ridiculous, and the townsfolk took the fairytale theme a little too far with some of their store names, but it was known for having the best school district around and Henry would always be her number one priority.

When she and Henry had arrived that morning for his first day of school, Emma was bombarded with questions by the (extremely nosey) other moms. She clinched her teeth, put on the most sincere smile she could muster and made her way through all of the introductions.

She started to question her small town decision immediately.

She was a very private person. She would rather not discuss how she landed in Storybrooke, or who Henry’s father was (because who actually has the nerve to ask that? These moms, apparently), or any of the other 30 questions she was asked in that short amount of time.

Needless to say, when she took her afternoon break from the Sheriff’s station to go pick up Henry from school, she kept her head down and avoided eye contact. Hopefully if she ignored them they would reciprocate with silence of their own.

Her plan worked for the most part, she only exchanged pleasantries with one or two of the other moms and before she knew it the bell chimed and the kids started filtering out into the yard.

She saw Henry exit beside quite possibly the most adorable little girl she had ever seen. She had dark, curly hair fixed high in a ponytail with clothes on that she obviously chose for herself (and didn’t do too terrible for a seven year old). They were locked in deep discussion, the only thing heard over the hustle and bustle of the school’s yard were their giggles and laughter.

Her heart soared; Henry had already made a friend. He was so much better than she ever was at such things and she was infinitely glad for that.

Suddenly this small town seemed like the best idea she had ever made.

She made her way across the grass with a wide smile on her face, “Henry!”

“Hi mom!” he called excitedly as she knelt down in front of him and wrapped him in a quick hug.

“How was your first day, kid?”

“It was amazing! This is my new friend Sophia,” he gestured proudly to the little girl to his right.

“Well hello there, Sophia, I’m Emma Swan,” she put her hand out for a shake, to which the girl immediately grasped.

“You’re pretty, Ms. Swan,” she said as Emma’s whole face erupted pink.

“Well, so are you, Sophia.”

And she was too. She had bright blue eyes that popped with the blue shirt she was wearing and were a striking contrast to the dark curls hanging down her back.

Suddenly an accented voice sounded from behind Emma, “Sophia, my love,” the mystery voice crooned, “How was your first day back, sweetling?”

Emma froze on the spot. She immediately decided it was in her best interest to avoid even looking to see who that voice belonged to. Judging by how adorable his little girl was, she had a feeling he wouldn't hurt on the eyes either.

“Papa!” Sophia squealed excitedly as she was snatched up in a pair of strong arms dusted with dark hair, “I made a new friend today. This is Henry Swan and he likes boats. I told him you have a boat and he said we should be best friends. Do you think that’s a good reason to be best friends, papa?”

Emma couldn't help the smile that came to her face after listening to the little girl rant in a way only a seven-year-old could.

“Aye, that seems as good a reason as any, little love,” she heard him say before Sophia got placed gently back on her feet.

She felt the movement of air as he ducked down to the children’s level, so she immediately stood and moved a step to her left, still avoiding him as best as she could.

Now that she was standing, she took in his dark hair (straight - not curly like Sophia’s) that had clearly had his fingers run through it too many times throughout the day. She could see the distinct outline of a very chiseled jaw that had scruff that was just a touch on the ginger side.

He was already the most attractive man she had ever seen, and she hadn’t even seen all of him yet.

He extended his hand out to Henry, “You must be Henry, my daughter’s new _best friend_ ,” she watched as he nudged his daughter playfully with his elbow and elicited a set of giggles from her, “I’m Killian Jones, fellow boat enthusiast.”

Henry shook his hand in a very serious manner before asking, “Can I have a ride on your boat?”

“Henry!” she admonished, trying her damnedest not to look at the pair of eyes she could feel on her now that she had drawn attention to herself, “You can’t just go asking strangers for a ride on their boat.”

The man stood and the movement drew her eyes to him.

Emma Swan had always prided herself in not swooning over men. Her streak ended the moment her eyes locked with his. They were piercingly blue, even more so than his daughters. Or maybe that was just her imagination (or maybe it was because his eyes were locked on her in a totally different manner than that of an adorable seven year old).

“No need to apologize,” he said as a large smile spread across his face. Dimples suddenly appeared and she decided it was unfair for a man to look that good (and be that sweet with his daughter). “It’s quite alright. I’m Killian Jones, by the way.”

He stretched his hand out in greeting. Now that he was fully facing her, and she got her first view of his unbuttoned, grey henley under the blue flannel he had rolled up to his elbow. There was chest hair peeking out from the top of his shirt that matched the same dark hairs that seemed to lightly cover the rest of his body.

She had never been a fan of body hair in the past, but she was suddenly questioning why she had been so adamantly against it when clearly it was doing a great many things for Killian Jones and his rugged sexuality.

He started to fidget under her perusal, and she realized she had been standing there dumbfounded for far too long (though a small part of her relished in the fact she could make a man like him squirm self-consciously). So, she reached for his hand and tried to make her voice sound even and smooth as she responded, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma,” he said her name like it was a prayer as she watched with rapt attention while he drew her hand up to his mouth and placed a chaste kiss to the back, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She immediately felt the heat reach her cheeks, and she mentally scolded herself for being so easily flushed (although, in her defense, it had been awhile. She suddenly wished she had thought to scratch that itch before she moved her life to a small town gossip-mill). Before her blush had a chance to spread further, she grabbed Henry’s hand, “Come on, Henry. I’ll be late getting back if we don’t go now.”

She nearly ran away from the school, all the while dragging poor Henry behind her. When they reached a safe distance, she slowed her walk and smiled sheepishly at Henry, “So, other than the new friend. How did you like your first day?”

Henry gave her a look that was far too knowing for a seven-year-old before a smile spread across his face and he started listing all of the cool things that happened that day. She listened intently all the way to Lost Boys Daycare, where she had arranged for Henry to spend a few hours after school while she finished her deputy shift at the station.

She knelt down to say good-bye, “I'll see you in a few hours. OK, kid?”

He smiled wide at her, “Alright mom. I love you!”

“Love you too,” she placed a kiss on his forehead before ushering him into the daycare and making her way back to the sheriff’s station.

When she arrived, the station was locked and she found a note on her desk from the Sheriff, David Nolan, letting her know he was out driving the town. So, she sat back and got to work on the stack of paperwork from the drunk tank arrests the night before.

After a while she heard the sound of the front door opening, and assumed it was David returning until she heard a distinctly female voice say, “Hello?”

Emma stood quickly from her desk and made her way around to the entry hallway where a petite woman stood. Her dark hair was cut into a pixie and she had on a knee-length floral skirt and pastel cardigan. She was exactly what Emma pictured when she imagined a small town housewife, “Hello, I’m Deputy Swan. Can I help you?”

The woman smiled warmly, “Oh, you must be Emma. David has told me so much about you! I’m Mary Margaret, his wife.”

Emma closed the last bit of distance that still remained between her and Mary Margaret before extending her hand in greeting, “It’s so nice to meet you Mary Margaret. David is out doing a drive around town, but he mentioned you teach at the elementary school?”

“Oh yes, I teach third grade,” Mary Margaret answered cheerfully, “I had the absolute pleasure of meeting Henry at recess today while little Sophia Jones was dragging him around and showing him the ropes. You have a very fine boy, Emma. I hope he makes his way into my class next year!”

Emma smiled genuinely, like she always did when Henry came up in conversation, “He’s my whole world. I’m just so glad he’s better at making friends than I ever was.”

The two women laughed, and Emma was immediately struck by how easy conversation with Mary Margaret seemed to be. Usually she struggled to keep a smile and looked for every exit possible, but it felt nice to have an actual, adult conversation.

“Oh, once that little Sophia set her sights on him, he was a goner,” she laughed serenely, “That little girl is a spitfire.”

“Yea, so is her father,” Emma grumbled before she realized.

Mary Margaret’s eyes widen, “You met Killian? He usually sticks to himself.” She laughed to herself before shaking her head and continuing, “He told me all about the system he worked out to avoid speaking to any of the awaiting mothers. I really shouldn't be saying this, because many of those mothers are friends of mine to a certain extent, but he hates all of those women fussing about him. He claims it’s insulting they think he’s incapable of taking care of his own daughter without their help.” She shrugged before adding, “Besides, he clearly has a handle on it. Sophia is a great student and an even better person.”

Emma was reeling from the half-story she just got. She had been too distracted by his eyes to take note of a ring (or lack-thereof) on his left hand, and suddenly she was looking at that father-daughter exchange from an even more heartwarming point-of-view.

“So, he’s a single father?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

(Judging by the look on Mary Margaret’s face she failed miserably.)

“Yes, his wife died when Sophia was an infant. He moved here in the aftermath, he wanted to rebuild a life for them,” she smiled, “He and Dave are actually really good friends. They go out fishing on Killian’s boat fairly regularly.”

Suddenly her instant draw to him made sense: they both knew loss and heartbreak.

She and Mary Margaret ended the conversation with an invitation for her and Henry to join the Nolan’s for dinner later that week (an invitation she found herself happily accepting - there was a first time for everything) and Emma went back to her paperwork.

Or at least, she tried to get back to work. Her mind had other thoughts, mostly those of bright blue eyes and deep dimples.

She ended her shift certain that she had to avoid Killian Jones at all costs. He was far too tempting; and if she knew one thing, she knew she could always rely on it ending in her heartbreak.

* * *

For the following weeks Killian had tried desperately to start up another conversation with Emma Swan. He even broke his rules about keeping his head down while awaiting Sophia (and he had paid the consequence for those actions many times over - those women really couldn't take a hint about shutting their blasted mouths).

He decided on week three that he wasn’t imagining things: she was avoiding him.

He had learned a few things about her through the small-town-grapevine: she was the new deputy in town, she was single (much to the other mother’s gossiping pleasure), she drove that bright yellow bug he had seen around town for the last month and, supposedly, she was prickly and unkind.

That last one was something he had a hard time accepting. The woman he met weeks ago was closed off behind impressive walls, but she didn't seem overly unkind. He saw the haunted look of a lost girl in her eyes, it was a look he knew all too well as one worn by an orphan.

Since the loss of Milah, he hadn’t felt a desire to know another woman on a personal level the way he yearned to know every detail about Emma Swan. She was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and he was infinitely curious about what lay in wait behind the impressive fortification she had built up around her heart.

It was a beautiful Friday afternoon a month into the school year, Sophia and Henry shared conspiratory smiles before waving and saying good-bye. Killian wondered what that was about, but figured he would find out sooner or later.

“How was your day, little love?” He asked as he slung her bag over his arm and took her hand.

“It was OK, papa,” she said, much more somber than usual.

He smirked to himself, because she was already being a little over-dramatic, but he played along, “Only OK, Sophia? I must say, that’s not the usual energy level I get from you on a Friday.”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “I’m just worried about Henry.”

“Oh?” Killian asked her with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yea, he just seemed really sad today,” she said, averting her eyes to the sidewalk.

Killian could sniff out a lie, but was curious what they were up to and wasn’t going to call her out yet, “He seemed fine when you said goodbye at the school.”

“Yea, ‘cuz he didn’t want his mom to see him sad,” she was still staring at the ground and he was trying hard not to laugh at the absurdity of her lie.

“Well, did you have something in mind to cheer him up?” Killian asked, legitimately interested to see where this farce was headed.

Her head shot up from the ground as she smiled brightly, “I was thinking we could go to the park tomorrow. His mom takes him every Saturday at 11.”

She was being about as subtle as he could expect from a seven-year-old. “But you play with him at recess every day,” he pointed out.

She scrunched up her face in a look of disgust. “Yea, _at school_ ,” she said like that was obvious, “And school isn’t every day. Tomorrow isn’t a school day.”

He was proud of her ability to debate at such a young age. “I must say, little love, you make quite the argument,” he said before stopping her and crouching down to her level, “This sudden need to meet Henry at the park wouldn’t have anything to do with me and Ms. Swan, would it?”

She looked guilty as she gulped, “No, papa. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me Sophia Marie,” he said, soft but firm, “All I ever ask of you is the truth. Honesty is important.”

“She’s pretty, papa,” Sophia said.

“Aye,” he chuckled, “That is a truth. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Then the floodgates opened, “She’s basically a princess, papa. She’s _so_ pretty! And she’s alone and you’re alone and you could be her _pirate_ papa,” she pleaded, as if that made total sense. “Then Henry and I could be brother and sister and live in the same house and _always_ play together.”

He was trying to process all of the words that just spilled from her mouth - specifically the ones about them being a family, “You’re getting ahead of yourself, my darling. You are the only princess in my life.”

“But it’s perfect, papa. It’s like the fairytales,” she looked at him with what could only be defined as puppy-eyes.

“This isn’t a movie, little love,” he said. He wished he could tell her he shared her fantasies, but he didn’t want to get her hopes up. Emma wouldn’t even speak with him, marriage wasn’t in the current realm of possibilities. Though, agreeing to the park could be his way to speak with her, “We can go to the park.” She squealed in excitement and started dancing around, “Hold on, Sophia, don’t get ahead of yourself. This is real life, and just because you wish it to be true, doesn’t mean we can assume one day we could be a family.”

“But, papa -” she started, before Killian cut her off with a gentle finger to her lips.

“No, Sophia, there are no ‘buts’ in this instance. Ms. Swan is not super forthcoming with conversation, so let’s not bombard her tomorrow with your future dreams of a family together. Savvy?”

She snickered at the term (they may have watched Pirates of the Caribbean when she was too young), but ultimately rolled her eyes and responded, “Savvy.”

“Now,” he said, as he stood and took her hand to resume their walk, “Let’s hope Henry wasn’t as glaringly obvious as you were, or they won’t be there tomorrow.”

* * *

The next morning, after a hearty brunch, they made their way to the park. He was nervous beyond belief. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, wondering if she would actually be there; if she would finally award him with one of her smiles.

He saw her blonde hair glowing in the sunlight from a distance, and apparently Sophia did too because her speed picked up.

“What’s the rush, little love?” he asked, fully knowing the answer.

She didn’t respond; she just looked back at him with an eyeroll. He chuckled as he marched obediently behind her.

As they reached the edge of the playground, he released her hand and let her scream (quite literally) ahead of him to the jungle-gym. He figured it was a way to prepare Emma for his imminent arrival - her stiff shoulders when Sophia made her entrance was his proof he had assumed correctly.

Sophia was already somewhere up on the upper levels of the park when he sauntered up beside Emma, “Good morning, Swan.”

She glanced at him warily from the corner of her eye before sighing heavily. He nearly chuckled at her antics, clearly she was resigning herself to the inevitable, “Morning, Jones.”

“Can’t quite ignore me when there isn’t a hoard of obnoxious, dotting mother’s between us, eh?” He asked with a smirk and raised brow.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” she said too quickly.

He snorted out a laugh, “Whatever you say, Swan.”

They stayed silent for a minute, watching as Sophia chased Henry down the slide and around in the sand because she was ‘it.’ Emma was the one that broke the silence, “Man, those women are annoying, aren’t they?”

He chuckled and nodded, “Aye. I honestly don’t know who has it worse, you or me.”

“How do you figure?” she asked as she officially turned her attention to him for the first time.

He mirrored her body language and turned his body towards her, “Well, I’m the helpless, single-father who can’t do a thing for himself and clearly needs rescuing.” He gestured towards Sophia and she picked the opportune time to shriek in joy as Henry chased after her.

Emma snorted and smiled, “Clearly.”

He tried to keep his smile tampered down, because she was smiling and laughing at him and he wanted to grin like an idiot, “Or, there is you. The heathenness, single-mom who most certainly has to be irresponsible, otherwise she wouldn’t be a single woman with a child.”

She chuckled again, “I see your point. We are both wood for the fire that is the gossip-mill those women seem to _thrive_ on.”

“I’ve always wondered why they couldn’t find something more constructive to do with their time,” he said with a smile, “You know, like world domination.”

“Bull fighting,” Emma added.

“Anti-vaccination propaganda,” Killian joked.

“Fighting marriage equality,” Emma was laughing at this point and his heart was pounding so loudly he was afraid it may burst.

He smiled wide, they effortlessly conversed as if they were old friends. She was spunky, and smart and _beautiful_.

She was bloody perfect; Sophia was right.

* * *

Emma just spent the last month adamantly avoiding Killian Jones; and here he stood beside her, joking about the other ridiculous mothers they have to deal with at the school.

She was terrified at how easily they fell into conversation. She could see herself falling quickly for him, and it only made her want to build her walls higher. She had already spent too much time over the last month daydreaming about his blue eyes and unruly hair doing unspeakable things to her.

But for some reason she kept talking to him, “Mary Margaret mentioned you have a system to keep the women away.”

“Aye, that I do,” he said before scratching his ear (which was unfairly cute) and smiling sheepishly, “Though I broke my rules the last few weeks trying to talk to this beautiful lass and ended up getting loads of advice I didn’t ask for; or need.”

She felt her body flush at the compliment and found herself lost for words. She knew she wasn’t ugly, but a lifetime of abandonment had taken a toll on her self-esteem and she was never good at accepting a compliment. “Shut up, Jones. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

He seemed unable to help himself as he carefully plucked one of her curls off her shoulder and twirled it around his finger, “It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

She felt her heartbeat quicken as he gazed at her seriously. His eyes were blue like the sea, and if she wasn’t careful she would drown in them. So, she opted to change the subject.

She cleared her throat, interrupting the moment, “So, you know you were duped into coming here today, right?”

A deep chuckle reverberated through his chest as he finally dropped her hair. She would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the slight tug of his fingers, and she scolded herself for the thought.

“I was wondering if Henry was as subtle as Sophia was,” he said with his brows raised high, “Though I must admit I figured I wouldn’t see you, if you figured it out.”

He had seen right through her avoidance, but she was going to stick with the ignorance she had already played, “Why do you say that?”

“Come now, Swan,” he said with a sad smile and puppy-dog eyes, “Are you still going to lie about your obvious avoidance?”

“I wasn’t -” he gave her a look that only a father could give (at least, that’s what she assumed since she never had a real father). So, she sighed and finally caved, “ _Fine_ , I was avoiding you.”

“See?” he said with a wide smile, “Was that so hard to admit?”

She couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face in return, “You’re annoying, did you know that?”

“Aye,” was all he said as he winked and turned his attention back to the kids at play.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he started shuffling his feet and reached to scratch for his ear. His little mannerisms were seriously adorable and Emma was having a hard time not grinning like an idiot at his antics. “So, uh - Swan, “he said, all previous vibrato lost, “I was thinking it would be smart if we - uh - exchanged numbers. You know -” she was starting to be concerned he would scratch his ear off at this rate, “- our kids are friends and you never know what might pop up. I could help you if you run over at the station, or have a case. It can be hard to be a single-parent in a new town with no family.”

He was rambling and she decided to finally take pity on him, “Er - uh -” ( _smooth, Emma_ ) “- sure, yea. That makes sense - I guess.”

She smiled, but it felt more like a cringe as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it. This was a terrible idea; she already had a crush that wouldn’t leave her alone.

But she punched her number into his phone and they continued to talk until their kids were red in the face and ready for a long nap.

So they said their good-byes and went their separate ways.

* * *

_K: Swan, I have an emergency_

She looked at the text and rolled her eyes. She knew full-well it wasn’t an emergency, just like the last 3 times over the past week weren’t an emergency.

_E: Have you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?_

_K: Aye, but I don’t know how that pertains to me, love._

He had taken to calling her love in texts and she was torn between wanting to tell him to cut it the fuck out; or desperately wishing he would say it in person so she could hear what it sounded like as it rolled off his tongue.

_E: ???_

_K: How long are you supposed to boil an egg?_

She rolled her eyes.

_E: Haven’t you ever heard of Google, Jones?_

_K: I’m a helpless, single-father who doesn’t know how to do anything, Swan. Take pity._

She laughed and googled it herself. Taking a screenshot and sending it his way with a smiley face.

_K: My savior._

She could do this, she could be friends.

* * *

She was buried under work after a huge fist-fight at the cannery that morning. She felt like she was never going to get it done, and she didn’t want to stop to go get Henry.

She felt like a horrible mother, but Killian had offered. She might as well take advantage, right?

_E: Can you do me a huge favor?_

She set her phone down, intending to work while she awaited his reply. But that wasn’t necessary, because her phone immediately chirped up at her.

_K: Name it and it shall be done, milady._

She snorted a laugh, that earned her a raised eyebrow from Dave before she typed her response.

_E: You’re a nerd, Jones._

_K: Aye. What can I do for you, love? (better?)_

_E: I’m buried under a massive pile of paperwork. Can you take Henry from school to the Lost Boys Daycare for me?_

_K: No problem at all, Swan. I’m sure Sophia will be ecstatic to spend the time with him._

_E: Thanks, Jones. I owe you one._

She called the school and let them know, and settled in for an afternoon of typing.

She knew Killian would take care of Henry. She should be freaked out by her complete faith in him, but she had paperwork to write and no time to psycho-analyze.

* * *

Killian was supposed to be back to port an hour ago… but these rich, bloody _assholes_ decided they wanted to stay longer. Sod the fact that Killian had a daughter to care for.

He sighed heavily as he grabbed his phone. He was thankful they were close enough in for service as he typed a quick message.

_K: Swan, I’m cashing in on my favor._

_E: What do you need, Jones?_

_K: These bloody prats think that my time doesn’t matter and decided they wanted to stay out longer. Threatened not to pay the other 50% if I didn’t. Can you pick up Sophia?_

He knew that Sophia didn’t have arrangement at any daycare, so she was stuck with his daughter until he finally made it into port. He just hoped she was OK with it. Dave should let her take the rest of the day off.

_E: You’re in luck, Jones. Dave took pity on you. I’ll take the kids to Granny’s for dinner after a stop at the park._

_K: Once again, you’re my savior, love. You should let me make it up to you._

He knew he was pushing his luck, and he also knew she would brush it off like she had all the other times he casually brought up making her and Henry dinner.

_E: This is me returning a favor, Jones. There is no reason to make it up. Besides, Sophia’s pretty adorable, it’s as good a reason as ever to take a half day (on a Friday, no less)._

* * *

Emma was sitting across from Sophia and Henry as they munched happily on their grilled cheese and fries.

It’s not exactly a healthy meal, but after all the energy they expelled at the park, she wasn’t too worried about it.

Killian had texted 30 minutes ago that he had made it to port and would be there soon. She was dreading his arrival, because Sophia and Henry had insisted on sitting together; which left Killian with only one option.

(She suspected foul-play on their part - since it wouldn’t be the first time)

She heard the door chime and looked up at the wind-swept Killian entering the diner. He smiled brightly at her, and walked right over before kneeling next to the kids and placing a kiss on Sophia’s head, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up, my little love.”

Emma was swooning at the Jones’ interaction and had a fleeting moment of weakness where she imagined they were a family, sitting in the diner for a harmless, Friday night dinner.

He said hello to Henry before standing and smiling down at Emma, “Hello, Swan. Is this seat taken?”

She smiled, “No, the kids here made sure you could have this one in specific,” she motioned towards the seat, “I ordered you a grilled cheese, I hope you don’t mind.”

He smiled wide at her as he slipped into the booth, “Not at all, thanks for the thought, love.”

He winked and bit into his sandwich as her stomach fluttered. He had finally slipped and said it in person, and she secretly loved it.

They ate in relative silence, it was comfortable as the group scarfed their food down with gusto. Killian was the first to speak, “Sophie, my darling, do you have the energy for a stop at the supermarket for the cupcakes we have to make in the morning?”

“Yes, papa! I love making cupcakes!” Sophia responded excitedly.

Emma looked at him skeptically, “ _You_ make cupcakes?”

“You wound me, Swan. You really do think I’m a useless single-father who needs help, don’t you?”

“Says the man who texted me about boiling eggs.” she dead-panned back.

He smiled sheepishly, “Yes, well, I’ve had _years_ of bake sale cupcake practice, Swan. I am the master of cupcakes.”

Sophia smile proudly from her seat, “We sell out every year.”

Emma had seen the notices for the bake sale all week and had bought the ingredients to make brownies a couple days before. She was dreading the sale, she knew that the obnoxious hoard of mothers would all be there, dissecting her (admittedly poor) baking skills.

“What are you bringing to the sale?” Sophia asked Henry.

“Mom and I are making brownies tomorrow,” Henry said proudly.

“Is that so?” Killian said from her right, “I look forward to sampling your selection. Though, I must warn you, prepare to be slaughtered in sales by the Jones family cupcakes.”

Emma bristled, her competitive streak came out swinging. “Dream on buddy,” she poked his shoulder (mostly) playfully, “You are going to be crushed by our brownies.”

“Oh,” Killian smiled sinisterly, “I smell a wager, Swan.”

“Bring. It. On. Jones.”

“If Sophia and I sell more cupcakes, I get to make you and Henry dinner,” he said, and she was floored that was his choice.

She almost slipped and told him that sounded more like a win-win for her, but that wouldn’t do well to keep what little shred of space she has managed between them. So instead, she opted to deflection, “Is that so?” she asked, trying her damnedest to keep her heart from pounding out of her ribcage.

“Aye, that’s what I want. What do you want if you win?”

She smiled and thought of how much Henry loved boats. Before she even thought of the implications she said, “You take Henry and I out on your boat.”

He smiled wide before putting his hand out, “Agreed.”

* * *

Killian had spent the morning in the kitchen with Sophia. This was his fourth year participating in the school’s bake sale, so he considered himself an expert at this point.

He had worked to perfect their technique and had purchased frosting piping supplies (which actually made the frosting process easier and much faster) after the failed attempt of Sophia’s pre-school days. They had sold out of cupcakes every year since then; a fact he was rather proud of.

He thought to his wager with Emma as they packaged the cupcakes, and smiled as he realized he won either way. He hoped she did well, just because he remembered how downtrodden Sophia was that first year when their table got passed by person after person.

He didn’t want to see that look on either of the Swan’s faces.

He arrived early to the bake sale and tried to sweet talked Mary Margaret into sitting him and Emma at neighboring tables.

She smiled knowingly, “As if I didn’t already do that, Killian,” she said with a pat to his cheek, “You two are good for each other. Good luck.”

He was a bit dumbfounded as he took Sophia’s hand and led her to their assigned table. Sophia got to work on hanging the sale poster while he set up the cupcake stand.

After a few minutes of work, the Swans arrived and his morning was infinitely brighter.

“Good morning, Swan,” he said with a wide smile.

She grumbled something that sounded like “too chipper” and “stupid bloody brownies.” He bit back a remark at her use of ‘bloody,’ but was happy to know he was rubbing off on her.

“Ah, so the brownie making didn’t go quite as planned this morning then, love?” he asked cheekily.

Henry was the one to answer, “Mom had an argument with the mixer.”

Killian tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was hard with the incredulous look she was giving her son, “Really, Henry?”

“What?” Henry asked, “It’s true.”

Killian snickered, “At least he’s honest, love.”

“Drop it, Jones,” she said pointedly.

He winked, “As you wish.”

Her cheeks tinged pink, and he filed that fact away for later use.

“Papa, can we take the cupcakes out now?” Sophia asked with big imploring eyes.

“Aye, love,” he picked up his cupcake carrier - it was another purchase from over the years - and removed the cover to hand Sophia a tray with the first dozen, “Be careful, little love. Remember to keep your fingers out of the frosting.”

“Yes, papa,” she said as her brows furrowed in concentration.

“Seriously?” He heard Emma say to his right and he looked to see what had her so upset.

Apparently it was their cupcakes. (Either that or Sophia, and he highly doubted _that_ ).

“What?” Killian asked.

“Did you buy those at the store? I thought that wasn’t allowed. They said something about that being against the point when I asked,” she was clearly grumpy today. He tried to keep his grin to a minimum, because she had actually asked if she could bring store bought.

“I assure you, love, these were lovingly made by Sophia and myself this morning,” he took the now empty tray from Sophia and put it back in his carrier before returning the cover and saving the other two dozen from any potential Swan-related-injuries; because the look she gave him was murderous.

“That’s not even fair, how did you make them look so pretty?” she asked, as Henry made his way to the table and started sniffing their work.

“Mmmmm, they smell good, Mom!” Henry said, only making his mother’s frown deepen.

He scratched his ear and gestured at the cupcakes, “This is my fourth year, love.” He shrugged and smiled at her, “You should’ve seen my first attempt. The cupcakes were a bloody wreck. Mary Margaret gave me suggestions and I took to Google and - well, I’ve sold out every year since.”

She shook her head at him and a small smile crept across her face, “The mothers must’ve been extra relentless that year.”

“Oh, you have no idea, Swan,” his smile widened, hopeful he was out of any Swan danger, “It was a nightmare. I vowed to never look that helpless again.”

She laughed, “Well, I may need your advice for next year.”

“Already admitting defeat, Swan?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Never,” she said with determination.

* * *

Emma burned their first batch of brownies, and proceeded to cover herself with flour and cocoa on the second. The third batch came out a little dry, but would have to do. She hid the dryness with chocolate frosting and cut them up into individual squares before laying them out on the platters she had purchased.

(She may have gone to get them this morning after her competitive streak decided she needed a better table display).

They weren’t fantastic, but they were passable; and after the morning she had, passable would have to work.

She was flabbergasted when Kilian took out their cupcakes. She assumed they would be edible, since he sold out every year. But a small part of her figured it was his good looks that sold the treats.

The first thought that passed through her mind was that his cupcakes looked almost as edible as he did, with his always-unbuttoned henley and flannel combo.

She shook the inappropriate thoughts from her mind and focused on her anger at his perfect cupcakes. His sheepish explanation only proved to melt her hardened shell, and she decided to focus instead on selling as many brownies as she could.

Thirty minutes into the sale and she had received a total of six sales, twelve unapproving looks, fourteen scoffs and murmurs, and one very disheartened little boy.

She wanted to pummel every one of those self-righteous women for being so callous to a little boy who just wanted to sell brownies; nevermind what they thought of her.

Killian was selling his very last one, but at least had the heart to not rub it in their faces. She watched as he whispered something into Sophia’s ear, and she smiled wide before skipping over to their table.

“Ms. Emma, can I help you and Henry sell?” she asked sweetly.

Emma smiled, “I won’t turn down the help.”

That was all the confirmation she needed, because Sophia spun around and started telling everyone about the delicious brownies they were missing out on. She purposefully stopped a few men she must’ve deemed extra gullible and used some considerable guilt tripping techniques to coerce them into buying.

Killian suddenly sat beside her, “She really is a little pirate, you know?”

She chuckled under her breath, “I may need to borrow her next year for the bake sale.”

“No way, love. She’s my secret weapon,” he said before bumping her shoulder with his, “So should we arrange for that dinner now, or -”

She sighed and decided against delaying the inevitable, “When did you have in mind, Jones?”

“I may have already purchased dinner supplies in preparation for the inevitable conclusion to our wager,” he replied with another ear scratch.

She laughed, “That was awfully cocky, Mr. Jones.”

“Aye, well I had my reasons, Ms. Swan.”

“So, what? You’re suggesting dinner tonight?” she asked.

“The steaks _are_ already marinating,” he said with a smirk and a wink.

 


End file.
